Big Girls Don't Cry
by oldshowaddict2015
Summary: Starts during Better Call Saul. Diana McGill. Actor. Singer. Doting daughter. After her father becomes ill, Diana decides to move back to New Mexico to help him out. But once everything begins to hit the fan between her father and uncle, not to mention a new love interest, will Diana be able to hold everything together, or will she lose her cool? R&R! Rated T. No flames!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

I returned home in early 2001, after my father had to become practically reclusive to society. It was thanks to his condition, this electro-something or other. You could ask him. He knew the term. When it first started to really come about and bug him, he read all about it. If he wasn't a lawyer, or sensitive to electricity, he could probably help people with the same condition if he wanted to. That's how much he knew about it.

My father's Chuck McGill. You may have heard of him, he's one of the founders of Hamlin, Hamlin and McGill, commonly known as HHM. Very prestigious law firm. A lot of big shots in New Mexico work there. I don't, I'm not a lawyer. I never had any interest in law. The arts were more my kind of thing. Acting, singing, dancing... you name it, I loved it. At first, I was more than certain he wasn't going to support my career choice-being an only child, and having your father push the importance of the firm and the law in and of itself, going on about how he hoped you would take up after he was gone, well it made you a little paranoid that he wouldn't support you. Just a bit.

My uncle supported me in whatever I wanted to do. Slippin' Jimmy, they used to call him. Younger than my father by ten years or so, I always was closer to him. He was just easier to talk to. When I was fifteen and had a pregnancy scare, Uncle Jimmy was the first person I went to. I was too scared to tell my father. I stayed the night at my uncle's place, and was practically up the whole time. You try being fifteen and freaking out about becoming a mother, see how you handle it.  
My uncle and I never told anyone-including my father-about that scare. It was just between the two of us, and it has been these past ten years.

The reason my uncle got the nickname, Slippin' Jimmy, was because he liked to play scams to get some money. For example: He liked to slip on the ice-not just any part of the ice, though. It had to be the most slippery part of the ice. Then, and only then, would he stage a fall and get a fair amount of money. Either that or he'd trick others into getting a fake Rolex, getting a lot of money. It was a good gig there for a while, but even the best get caught. He once pulled a Chicago Sunroof, but that wasn't a very good move on his part...

I was 19 when I moved to California to start my acting career. I could see it. My name, across screens in this nation. Diana McGill, one of the best actors in film history. At least, you know, in my mind. That's what I wanted, anyway. And for a while, that was what I got. At age 20, I was pretty A List. I was in a few movies with Molly Ringwald, and had finished up what was going to be a huge hit, titled _The Renzullis_ , and some critics said I was a shoe-in for an Oscar. Others thought that my co-star was going to get it, but I'd be happy either way. I already had an Emmy anyway for my portrayl of Kathleen Jackson, a lawyer who lived out in New York City. I remember reading a review, saying that I was one of the most believable actresses to portray a lawyer on television.

Gee. I wonder why.

But that all stopped in 2001, after my father fell ill. I put my career on hold and moved to New Mexico to help him out. My uncle was too, don't get me wrong, but I was more of the live-in help. If Uncle Jimmy couldn't make it, I was the one who went out and got what my father needed, which was seldom. I really was there for company. Besides, I always wanted to be closer to my father. I figured this was good bonding time.

I cooked and cleaned, if he didn't feel like it, and for a while it was going pretty good. But the shit really started to hit the fan in 2002.

At the time, I singing in a nearby bar, doing covers of Frankie Valli songs at night, working in a local resturaunt as a waitress during the day to get by. The singing went well, for the most part, except for that one guy who liked to come in every night to try and hit on me. I think it might have been because he was just drunk, but it still unnerved me. It was an older gentleman, a man who looked as if he had no respect for himself, or women in general. It wasn't just me. He'd hit on women at the bar, at a table, or even just if they were standing around. Especially if they were with someone. I'm not sure why, maybe it was because he was just a fucking idiot, but either way it was rather annoying. I think he liked to piss the men off. I've seen him come in with a shiner the next day after a fight because he just wouldn't _fucking shut up_.

I was on my break, sitting at the bar. I slowly sipped my Black Russian (which was just vodka and coffee liqueur-it sounds disgusting, but really it's pretty damn good) and was reading one of those trashy romance novels (which I happen to love, by the way). He decided to sit right next to me. The smell of that cheap cologne was strong-too strong. I almost choked on my drink.

"How you doin', Sweetcheeks?"

 _Please, Lord, help me in this time of need before I go off on this motherfucker._

"Are you looking for an ass whoopin', because if you are then you came to the right place." I answered him, not even skipping a beat. He laughed quietly.

"Come on, a sweet little lady like you? I doubt you could hurt a fly."

I stared at him, putting my book down. "Wanna bet?"

He raised an eyebrow, cocking his head a bit. "You're McGill's daughter, ain't ya? The actress?" I kept staring at him. "Crazy McGill?" The grip tightened on my drink. "What kind of human being locks himself in his house with no electricity?" he started laughing. "That man is insane."

My lips tightened and I threw my drink in his face. "Fuck you, asshole." I slammed the glass down and threw a few dollars onto the bar. "Lou, I'm done for the night." I yanked my purse up from the bar and stormed out, going to my car. Behind me, a friend I made while singing here started to follow.

"Hey, Diana! You still have one more set!" Wendy Johnson called after me.

"Finish it for me! I'm done for the night!" My voice cracked, but I didn't look at her. Wendy had never seen me cry, and I wasn't intending for this to be the first time for it to happen. I opened the front door to my car and got in, locking it afterwards. I drove off after that, blinking away angry tears.

I hated when people mocked my father. It wasn't his fault he was sick. I don't even know how it happened, but the fact that he might not get better-because, let's face it, it's not cureable (at least I don't think so)-just pains me. Even though we weren't that close, I still loved my father. I always had that dream of him walking me down the aisle at my wedding. Giving me away to the man I loved. Dancing that father/daughter dance with me. It was something that I always wanted. Something I would probably never get. And those fuckers just rubbing it in that it might not ever happen-or even going as far as to call him crazy-really pissed me the fuck off.

I parked outside of the house and got out of my car, tossing my keys and my cell phone into the mailbox. I didn't care if it was on or not right now. I could charge it tomorrow when I went to my day job. Not a big deal.

I walked inside and shut the door quietly, wiping my eyes and taking in a few deep breaths. _In through the nose, out the mouth... Count to ten... Calm yourself down..._ I thought to myself. Don't let your voice crack when you speak to Dad because he'll know something's up.

And the last thing I wanted to do right now was talk about what just happened.

I stared at the ceiling for a moment before going to the kitchen and opening the cooler, letting some of the water out. The ice was still fresh, but had begun to melt a bit. I try to let it out whenever I can so that there isn't a shitton of ice water to drain out. I grabbed a soda and opened the can, sighing to myself.

"You ground yourself?" my father called from the other room. For a moment I nodded before realizing he couldn't fucking see me.

"Yeah, I'm grounded." I sighed quietly, putting the lid back on the cooler.

"How was work?"

"Same old shit." I walked into the room where he was. "I go back tomorrow night, sing a different set of songs, get paid next week." I plopped down onto the couch, the sound of my father typing at the typewriter oddly comforting.

"Was your friend there?" I could her the smirk in his voice. I knew he was talking about that old pervert who never learned his lesson.

"Is the Pope Catholic?" I smiled a bit. I heard him chuckle. "He tried to hit on me tonight, and got really pissed off when I turned him down."

"So what else is new." He muttered. I couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"I'm telling you, that man is relentless." I sipped my Coke. "I finally threw my drink in his face and stormed out. Really hoping that ice cube gave the fucker a black eye."

"I was wondering why you were home early."

I looked over at my Dad. It was remarkable how he could tell time without even a watch or anything. I guess after a year and a half, you got pretty good at telling time by just how much of it passes. I usually got home around eleven, or twelve (depending), and tonight it was around 9:45 or ten o'clock. I wasn't exactly sure, and there was no point in checking the time now. I didn't feel like getting up, and I felt like I was melting into the couch. I didn't realize how tired I was until now. He was looking up at the paper and back at the keys every now and again. He was beginning to look his age, my father was. His hair was silver and thinning on the top, but he still kept himself clean shaven, like he did when I was a child. I'm guessing he does it during the day, either when I was sleeping or when I was at work. Normally he woke up around 5:30 in the morning, like he usually did when I was growing up, took a shower, shaved, all that nice stuff. It was amazing how he did the same thing every day, even now. It was like nothing had changed. Except... You know... He couldn't go outside or have anything electrical near him.

"Everything okay?" he asked, looking up at me. Well, shit.

"Yeah. Everything's fine." I lied, taking a big gulp of my Coke.

"Diana." He stopped typing on the typewriter and looked at me. "Don't lie to me."

I looked at him again, biting my lip. "He knows who I am, and decided to take a crack about your condition." I looked at the soda can as I heard him sigh. "So I threw my drink in his face."

"You have to get control of your emotions." He started. Oh, boy. Here we go again. "You can't lose your temper every time someone says something about me or my condition."

I looked at him. "He called you crazy, Dad. And I know you're not." He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "How can you just sit there and justify what he said? He called you 'Crazy McGill'. Sorry if I took that shit personal."

My father shook his head. "Diana, I appreciate you sticking up for me-I do. But people are going to talk and they're going to say things like that. It's just inevitable. Things like this happen all the time."

"Seriously? You're going to just roll with this shit?" I shook my head and rubbed my forehead for a moment.

"You can't let things like this get the best of you. One day, if you do, you'll go back there and you won't have a job."

I rolled my eyes. "Gee, thanks."

"I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, but it's true. You have got to watch that temper of yours. It'll get you in a lot of trouble if you're not careful."

I got up, setting my soda on the coffee table. "I'm going to go take a shower and go to bed. I'm too tired for this shit." I walked over to my Dad and kissed him on the top of his head. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well."

"You too." I patted his shoulder and left the room. The typing continued as I grabbed an oil lamp on a nearby bookshelf in the hall, turning it on. I made my way to the bathroom, going in and starting the shower. I took my clothes off and let my hair down, letting it cascade over my shoulders. I was thankful for the mirror only being big enough to let me see my face and my shoulders. Everything down I saw with my own eyes, not in a reflection, and I really didn't want to look at myself. I locked the door and took off my jewlery, stopping at a diamond ring on my left ring finger. I looked at my reflection for a moment before setting it down on the sink, and getting into the shower.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 _I giggled quietly as we flopped down onto the bed. Randy pulled me close and kissed me, his hand lightly caressing me down the side of my body before hooking one or two fingers into the waistband, tugging a bit._

 _Here I was, a drama nerd, making out with the high school quarterback. I pulled him close, tangling my fingers in his hair. He started to kiss down my neck, making me grin. My father wasn't supposed to be home in a while-he was stuck at the firm until at least eight or later, so it wasn't a big deal-and I didn't exactly have a mother, so I had nothing to worry about._

 _Except the very fact that I had to babysit little Joanie Roberts around 6:30, and it was around 6:15 that day._

 _"Randy."_

 _"Mm."_

 _"Randy." I tapped him on the back a couple times._

 _"What?" he leaned up and kissed me. I pulled away quickly._

 _"We can't do this right now."_

 _"Why not?" He looked at me. I sighed a bit._

 _"Because I have to babysit tonight..."_

 _He groaned and rolled off me, laying next to me on the bed. "At what time?"_

 _"6:30. Why?" I looked at him. "You wanna help?"_

 _Randy shrugged, his shaggy blonde hair falling into his face. "I mean, I can. I have a way with kids."_

 _"You like them?"_

 _"Yeah, they're alright."_

 _I nodded and stood, fixing my shirt. "Good. Because Joanie is two." I walked out of my room and made my way to the living room, searching for Joanie's favorite video tape, which was_ A Goofy Movie _, and put it in the TV. I then stood and hurried into the kitchen, putting a bag of popcorn into the microwave. I heard Randy make his way to the kitchen._

 _"Popcorn and a movie?"_

 _"She likes this. She usually eats maybe one or two pieces of popcorn because she isn't a big fan, but she likes applesauce, so I usually give her that. It's in the fridge, could you get that and a little spoon?"_

 _"Where's the spoons?"_

 _"The drawer next to the fridge." I hurried over to the cabinet and got down a little sippy cup. Around 6:28, I heard a knock on the door, and I made my way over to it, opening it. Joanie stood there, her mother Rosita behind her. Joanie flashed a small smile at me before I picked her up._

 _"She's kind of fussy today, so make sure she doesn't throw a temper or anything." her mother said. She handed me a stuffed teddy bear. "That's Boo Boo. She needs to have him at all times."_

 _"Yes, ma'am." I nodded. Joanie grabbed my necklace and looked at it._

 _"Oooh." she smiled._

 _"I'm going to pick her up around ten, is that okay?" Rosita ran a hand through her hair, trying to keep it tucked it behind her ear._

 _"Yes, that's fine." I nodded._

 _Rosita started to leave but she looked back at me again. "Could I pay you in a week? I don't get my paycheck until this Friday, and-"_

 _"Yes, that's totally fine." I nodded. "I promise." I smiled softly. "You pay me whenever you can."_

 _"Thank you so much. I have to go." she kissed Joanie on her forehead and waved at me. "I'll be back at ten."_

 _"I'll be here." I smiled and shut the door as she turned around and headed towards her car._

Babysitting was always kind of my area of expertise. I excelled in it. Kids loved me. They never back-talked or anything, and usually always did as I said (if they were older, like 5 or 6). If they didn't, I told their mother and they got a punishment-either a light spanking on the ass or time out, whichever they saw fit.

But damn. Do I wish I could say for my fucking boss.

I walked behind the counter and placed my little slip of paper on the bar, about to leave, I heard that Goddamn motherfucking bell.

"Order ready!"

I turned on my heel and stared at Blake, who was giving me this glare.

"Pick up the order and take it to the table." He snapped.

I yanked the tray off the bar, glaring at him. "I know how to do my job." I left the bar and walked over to a table of three young boys, obviously high school age. "I have a bacon cheeseburger with no onions." the dark haired boy raised his hand and I handed it to him. "A bacon cheeseburger all the way." I handed it to the boy in the middle, who was reaching for it. His hair was lighter, from what I could tell, the rest of it covered by his stupid beanie. Jesus, I hated beanies. "And a regular fry." I handed it to the last boy, who was really skinny. I mean _skinny_. He could stand sideways and stick out his tongue and look like a fucking zipper. This kid needed to eat a brownie.. "Anything else for you?"

The one in the middle went to speak right as the _Goddamn bell rang_. I sighed.

"Order ready!"

"Excuse me a moment." I left their table and went back behind the counter. "Blake." I whispered, through clenched teeth. "You've been ringing that motherfucking bell all Goddamn day, and if you don't stop I'm going to shove it up your tight ass."

"Pick up the order and deliver to the customers. No objections."

I took the tray. "I know. This is _my_ job, remember?" I went and delivered the tray to a young couple who were _obviously_ here on a date. They just had that look about them.

It was kinda gross.

"Okay, so," I put on my best acting face. "We have a-"

Ding. I sighed to myself.

"We have chicken tenders for one of you and a-"

Ding.

 _I'm going to kill that motherfucker._

"A hamburger with fries for the other, is that correct?"

The woman nodded, reaching for her chicken tenders. I handed the man his hamburger.

"Okay. Will that be-"

Ding. Ding. Ding.

I opened my mouth and held up a finger. "Excuse me a moment."

I made my way to the back, gripping the blue tray in my hand. I made my way into the kitchen, just as calm as I could be.

"Order ready!" Blake snapped again.

"I'll 'order ready' you." I raised the tray and smacked him with it, watching as he staggered a bit. After that, I grabbed him by his collar and punched him. The three high school boys I served earlier were watching the fight, and were hooting and hollering. People by now had gathered to see what was going on. I took my visor and my apron off, throwing them at Blake. "Get someone else to get your fucking orders for you! I quit!" And with that, I stormed out of the resturaunt, leaving Blake with his head absolutely spinning. The boy in the beanie called after me.

"Hey!"

I turned and looked at him. He stood there, just right outside, wearing a stupid oversized hoodie and jeans.

"What?"

"That was a good hit."

I nodded. "Thank you. I had three months worth of frustration in that hit. It felt great."

He laughed a bit. "Yeah, I just... I wanted to let you know. That was.. That was bitchin'."

I smiled a bit. "Thanks..."

"Jesse."

"Jesse." I nodded. "Thank you."

And with that, I turned and left.

{ } { } { } { } { } { } { } { } { } { }

I sat in a diner, waiting for my uncle. He was coming back from the courts, and was probably going to be late for lunch. I didn't mind. I knew that work was stressful. Hell, my old job was stressful.

I heard the bell on the door ring, and I looked up from my crossword to see Uncle Jimmy making his way over, briefcase in hand. I smiled a bit. My uncle, like I've said, was younger than my father by ten years or so. Like him, he had his hair combed to the side, and it was brown just like my father's before it turned grey (me, I got fucking ginger hair and I have no idea where that shit came from). His suits, while professional, were just a bit too big or wouldn't match up with the tie he had on. The tie was in the middle of the suit, going straight down. The jacket would be slightly to the left or right, depending.

"Hey." I greeted him as he sat down in front of me.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

"It's okay. I've only been here a few minutes." I shook my head and set my crossword to the side, running a hand through my hair.

"So what happened?"

I sighed. "I quit the resturaunt."

My uncle furrowed his eyebrows. "What? Why?"

"Blake was being a fucking dick. He had this fucking bell, and just... Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding! Every five minutes, I got tired of it."

"So you just up and quit?"

"No." I cleared my throat and looked out the window. "I smacked him with the tray before giving him a shiner."

My uncle sighed. "Diana... This temper-"

"I know, I know." I rolled my eyes. "I gotta get control of it. I get it."

"Well, you do. Otherwise no one's going to want to work with you. And... right now, you need any job you can get."

I nodded. "I know." I leaned on my hand. "So how was your day?"

"Same old shit. 700 bucks. Come back, get a different defendant. Another 700." He shrugged.

"At least it isn't eight bucks an hour."

"Well, I'm hoping to get 2100 for my next check. I've got three defendants this time. Hopefully it'll work out in my favor."

"What's the case?"

"Just three nineteen year olds doing stupid stuff, the usual."

I nodded right as my phone rang. "Fuck... Hang on a second." I took it out and answered it. "Hello?"

" _Diana_?"

"This is she."

" _It's Blake. You're coming in tomorrow, right_?"

I looked at my uncle before busting out laughing. "Yes, I'm coming in. But don't ring that Goddamn bell."


End file.
